The Ring on the Right Hand
by Denealle
Summary: There is a secret reason why Mycroft wears his ring on his right hand.


Hey, there. It is my third story about Mystrade. This one is based on the context that Mycroft has already been with Lestrade before Sherlock's fake death. And both of them knows the truth. I really hope that you like it!

Now, enjoy~

- Mr. Holmes, what do you wear a ring on your right hand for? And it's on the ring finger. Should it be on your left hand?

The American ambassador is famous as a gossip. Mycroft has prepared for that, but this question differs. He grins politely.

- Well, it's sort of a family affair. My partner loves it that I wear my ring on my right hand.

Of course this fuzzy answer is not satisfying, not for the ambassador.

- Really? Oh, that's weird. May I know why?

He's really stubborn, Mycroft thinks, putting aside his smile.

- Mr. Ambassador, if you allow me, I would like to keep this to myself. And besides, I think we still have a timetable.

- Oh, yes, we have. I'm sorry. Where were we?

- The missiles.

Mycroft replies with a triumphant smile, but it can't warm the ambassador who has been frozen by Mycroft's cold words. However, he manages to nod, shivering.

The ambassador really has no brain for anything else other than gossip. Mycroft assumed the negotiation should have lasted at least for three hours, which would have delayed his dinner with Gregory. But he won it perfectly within an hour. The capacity of his opponent was absolutely overrated by Mycroft's useless staff. Anthea is in China now, harsh-harsh stuff. Mycroft can't help but miss her. You feel bad when you get your omnipotent assistant apart, anyway. Fortunately, he still has Gregory, his best friend, his partner, and his soulmate.

Imagining Gregory's bright smile, Mycroft rubs his right-hand ring and smiles subconsciously. It's a very old and plain gold ring. He has been wearing it since Gregory gave him it three years ago. As the car started moving, Mycroft falls into memories.

At that time, although Mycroft and Gregory knew that Sherlock survived Moriarty, they had to keep it under the table. Meanwhile, Mycroft was impacted. His loyalty was suspected by the upper thanks to his "fake" brother. He was stranded. Given nothing but petty stuff, Mycroft was investigated thoroughly at the same time. Every day he didn't get back home until midnight. Sometimes he would be held up for several days. But whenever he entered home, Gregory was always waiting, with a cake sometimes, neglecting his rigid diet. Mycroft knew Gregory himself was in the crisis too. Theoretically, he is the one that got Sherlock involved. But he never mentioned it to Mycroft. Sometimes he fell asleep when Mycroft returned. Then once he heard the sound of the door knob, he would wake up immediately, step forward smilingly, and wrap Mycroft up with an affectionate and heart-melting kiss. It was Gregory who helped Mycroft overcome the hardship.

Then when everything was solved, they celebrated their life's turning normal again.

Sitting face to face and holding Mycroft's hand, Gregory's eyes sparkled like stars.

- Mycroft, there is something I must tell you.

Mycroft blinked his eyes, waiting for the following.

- I could never know what my life would be without you. We both have been in hell during the last few months. Your companion was the comfort from heaven, and you were the very guy who pulled me back from the eternal darkness, and saved me from drowning in the ocean of misery. There is nothing I can do for you in return but share the rest of my life with you, embrace you while you're sleeping, and kiss you good morning when you wake up. Although we would be apart because of either the crime or the country, or both, I would devote myself to these promises. Mycroft Holmes, I love you. Would you marry me?

Gregory flushed like a cherry, while he was proposing. Holding his breath and anticipating a yes, he pulled out a tiny velvet box containing two old-fashioned plain gold rings.

For the first time in Mycroft's life, he lost his words. His vocabulary is as ample as is the thickest dictionary, but at that point he failed to drag any word out of his brain to express himself. He should've been the one to say those words. Instead, he was all in blank.

- Then I presume you tacitly approved. May I?

Gregory asked cautiously, pointing at Mycroft's right ring finger, a thick family ring on it.

- Yeah, yes of course.

Mycroft nodded as if Gregory were a waiter asking him whether to remove his plate. He watched Greg replace his family ring with the one he prepared himself, put on the other on his own left hand, and buckle his fingers with Mycroft's. The rings jingling pleasingly, Gregory sighed with satisfaction.

Before Gregory said anything, Mycroft tugged him close with his tie, and kissed him with all the passion he could ever hold.

With all the others' gazing in the restaurant, Mycroft smirked.

- Gregory, that is the way I proclaim "yes, I do".

Mycroft smiles all the way to Scotland Yard as he recalls the memorable moments. As soon as the car pulled up, Mycroft sees Gregory coming out wearily. Mycroft gets off the car with his black umbrella, grinning. The car pulls over.

Gregory doesn't get too shocked seeing Mycroft leaning on his umbrella at the gate. The British government has been giving him surprises since they stayed together. Gregory chuckles.

- How was the meeting?

- Tedious.

It is tedious every second without you. Mycroft says inside. But he shrugs carelessly. Then he transfers the umbrella from his right hand to the left, and reaches out for Gregory.

- Willing to walk home?

- Yeah, why not.

Gregory takes Mycroft's hand using his left one, squeezing Mycroft's fingers tenderly, with the rings clicking.

That delicate sound is on the list of the things they cherish most.


End file.
